


At the Base of the Erie

by EricaNoelle180



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 18:22:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11857089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EricaNoelle180/pseuds/EricaNoelle180
Summary: Alayne Stone loved Sundays. For it was the day that her father, Lord Protector of the Vale, would visit her cottage. If only her step-mother knew what occurred during those visits, she might rethink allowing her husband to visit his only daughter.





	At the Base of the Erie

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> So this one shot popped into my mind and I had to get it out. Mainly because I'm super irritated with S7 that this is kind of what I wished would have happened. 
> 
> I feel that this is better than the crap we've been getting in the Winterfell scenes.

The cottage was smaller than she was used to. It was two stories, with three bedchambers, two parlors, a kitchen, a formal dining room, a library, two wash rooms and a full garden in the back. It wasn't tiny by any means but just not exactly what she was used too. She was used to big castles filled with dozens upon dozens of people. Servants cleaned and cooked while she lived the perfect life out of those songs she used to sing. Yet, that was her old life. She was naive child and had no understanding of what the world truly was outside of Winterfell's walls. All she knew was that of snow, songs and the gilded cage her parents kept her in.

Now she knew better. Her real father's head was on a spike for all of King's Landing to see and had been for the last few years. She had seen the monster order his head to be cut off. She had loved that monster; now she knew better. Her mother and eldest brother were murdered at her uncle's wedding and their bodies thrown in the river for the fish to feed upon. They were all dead. 

She was the last Stark. 

Well that wasn't technically true. Jon was alive and on the Wall but she never felt that he was a true Stark. Arya was...somewhere. Father told her that he saw her briefly, long ago. He couldn't save her but she knew better. If he wanted to, he could have. He didn't want to. He didn't want Arya. He wanted her. She knew that it was because of the fact that she looked like her mother. He had cared for Catelyn Tully at one point and she knew that it was that reason why he pulled her from King's Landing. He wanted Catelyn. At some point, that desire for Catelyn changed. Now, he wanted Sansa and not because of her mother's beauty. 

Yet, she wasn't Sansa any longer. Instead she was Alayne Stone. Littlefinger's baseborn daughter. That is what the Vale thought. When Petyr Baelish married Lysa Arryn, they thought he brought his illegitimate daughter with him. To no-ones surprise, Lysa casted her out quickly, claiming that she didn't want her around. Part of Alayne wondered if Lysa knew who she really was, then perhaps Petyr wouldn't have sent her to this small cottage to live alone, with few servants, but instead inside of the Erie. Petyr smiled at her when she proposed it but said it would be unwise.

“Lysa was always jealous of your mother.” Petyr told her one Sunday, during his normal visit. “If she knew who you were, then she would be mad with jealousy.” At first, she didn't understand what he meant. Then as his visits progressed, so did his affections. She remembered her real father and the way Petyr treated her was far from fatherly. It took a moment but she soon realized what it was. He wanted her the way a man wanted a woman. He saw her as a woman and not some silly little girl filled with stupid dreams. 

She thought of her husband then; the husband who left her a virgin. She never desired Tyrion. She had thought she desired Joffrey but that ended the moment she saw the sword swinging to take her true father's head. But the more she saw Petyr and the more he taught her of his world, the more she felt herself wanting him. She knew he wanted her. His touches would just last a bit too long. His lips would linger on her cheek far longer than was appropriate. 

And Alayne found it exhilarating. She looked forward to her father's visits. She dismissed the few servants she had on Sundays while she waited for her father to ride from the Erie. Her cottage was at the base of the mountains and if she looked out her bedchamber window, she could see the castle perched on the mountain. She would sit upon her window seal, gazing out from the early morning until she saw her father's horse ride onto the property. She would drop her book, dash down the stone stair and into his waiting arms. 

“And how is my Alayne today?” Petyr asked, whispering in her ear. His long fingers traced along the strings that held her dress together. She could feel chest through the heavy fabrics of his coat against her breast. Winter had come and the Vale had grown cold; but she didn't grab her cloak because she knew that her father's arms would keep her warm enough. “Cold without proper clothing?”

“You hate it when I'm in proper clothing, Father.” Alayne replied with a cheeky grin. This caused him chuckle. He always appreciated her wit. Her real father would just smile at her while her mother would scold her. The Septa would do the same. So, as Sansa, she kept her opinions to herself; growing furious when Arya was praised for them. 

“That is true.” He pulled away and took her hands in his. He held out her arms in order get a better look at her body. His eyes trailed down the dress she wore. It was made of dark colors and she wore the steel circled necklace at her breasts. Her hair was jet black, just like his. Not her natural color but the vibrant red would stand out, at least that is what Petyr told her. “Come inside and tell me about your week.”

And she did. As always, Alayne would lead her father inside the cottage chatting about the life she led; and he would listen with rapid attention. If anyone had seen them, they would assume that it was a father and a loving daughter heading inside their home to get out of the cold. Yet, the cottage was now empty except for the two of them. She told him about the gossip of the village as she led him into the library. That was his favorite room. He sat down in one of the plush chairs by the stone fireplace and had Alayne perched on his lap. 

“It is strange that whenever I enter the market or a shop or some kind of tavern, it goes quiet. So either, the village people are gossiping about me or they are afraid of Lady of the Vale's husband. They wouldn't want me to hear their secrets and report it back to my dear father.” Alayne stated and Petyr chuckled, pulling her closer. He reached up and traced her necklace before moving his fingers down toward her cleavage.

“You're such a clever girl. My clever girl.” He whispered to her as he traced over the top of her dress. His hand moved to cup her breast and he leaned in to kiss her collarbone. His lips brushed over her sensitive skin, causing her to moan. His tongue slips out and graces her pulse point. Alayne's hands trace down the sides of his arm until she reaches the hand that is gripping her breast. She guides his hand gently and allows his thumb to trace over her nipple that could be felt through the black fabric. 

“Which is it?” Alayne asked, causing Petyr to hum in question. “Is it me, Alayne Stone, Lord Petyr Baelish's base born daughter that they gossip about or, is it the Lord himself.” Alayne moves away slightly and pulls his head away from her neck. Their eyes lock as she slips off her lap. Petyr makes a move to follow but she pushes him back down into the plush chair. He gives her that infamous smirk as she hikes up the hem of her dress. She climbs back into the chair and lowers her wet core to his clothes member. She begins to rotate her hips in a tortuously slow place. “Tell me Father, is it me or is it you?”

“Perhaps it is your beauty that they whisper about.” Petyr replied in a husky voice. One of his hands gripped her hip while the other slowly made his way up her ivy colored legs. “For you are the perfect lady. A lady that any man would be lucky to call his wife.” His fingers reached the hem of her dress and slipped underneath. “However, a father is going worry over his little girl. No one man would do. He must be her equal. He must be worthy of her and that is no easy feat.” His fingers reached the curls between her legs, curls that he knew did not match the current color of her hair. “No small-clothes? My naughty girl.” 

“Like I told you Father, I know you don't like me in proper clothing.” Her breath hitched as his fingers touched her clit. She hissed and whimpered. The movements were slow and it caused Alayne to want to move her hips faster in hopes of getting closer to that sweet release. However, Petyr had a firm grip on her hip and he controlled her speed. She reached out and gripped his shoulders. “Father, please.”

“Tell me Alayne. What man is worthy of you? Hmm? What man haunts your dreams?” 

“You. Only you.”

“Thats my good girl.” Petyr curved his fingers and dipped two of them inside of her. Alayne bucked her hips and cried out. Petyr began to thrust his fingers in and out while his thumb traced over her nub. His fingers kept up with the pace her hips were setting and soon he could feel the muscles slowly begin to tighten around his fingers. Alayne froze and her back arched. Her nails digging into his clothing. He leaned up and kissed her pulse point. “Ride it out. Embrace it. Come for me.” 

It took a moment but Alayne came down from her release. She felt him remove his fingers and she whimpered at the loss. Her eyes fluttered to look at him and she could see that he was wearing a proud smile; a smile only a father has for his daughter. Petyr brought his fingers to his lips and began to suck the juices off of them, one by one. When he was done, Alayne leaned down and kissed his lips; dipping her tongue into his mouth. She tasted herself on his lip and it caused her to moan against him. 

“Thank you Father, for my present.” 

“I'm not done yet Sweetling. A father doesn't only bring one gift for his daughter.” Petyr pushed her away slightly, causing her to stand in front of him and the skirt of her dress to fall down around her legs. His eyes traveled the length of her; appraising her. Alayne bit her lip and looked at him bashfully. He then smiled at her in a pleasing manner and stood from the chair. He reached out and touched her shoulders, turning her around quickly. He brought her back to touch his chest roughly. “Yes. I do agree with you my sweet daughter. I am the only man for you.” 

His fingers began to pull at the strings of her corset until the dress loosened. He tugged and pulled until it pooled around her completely; leaving her naked. He chuckled when he saw that it wasn't just the small-clothes she had forgone. She didn't wear any undergarments beneath her dress at all. He chuckled and began to move his fingers down her spine. Alayne's breath hitched but turned to a squeal when his fingers pinched her backside. She turned around quickly and gave him a glare. 

“That hurt.” She pouted and he stepped forward; bringing her into his arms. He kissed her lightly and sucked on the lip that was perched out. He moaned into her lips and deepened the kiss. They battled with their tongues until Petyr reached down and scoop Alayne up into his arms. 

“I apologize. Let me make it up to you.” He moved toward the purple love seat and laid her down upon it. Her dark hair sprawled across the fabric and Petyr admired her beauty. He reached down and ran his fingers across her soft skin, causing her to whimper. “You're more beautiful than she ever was.” As the words slipped from his lips, he pushed off his coat and pulled the tunic over his head. His breeches became undone quickly and he pushed them to his ankles before stepping out of them completely. “It's cold in here. You should have lit a fire.”

“Well then,” Alayne opened her legs for him. “Let me warm you.”

Petyr crawled on top of her and settled himself between her willing legs. His member brushed against her core and they both hissed at the contact. Her breast touched his chest and the feel of her hardened nipples against him made him groan. Petyr looked down at her and he could see the vulnerability behind her eyes. He reached up and touched the side of her face. After a moment of looking at her, he kissed the top of her head and reached down to take himself in hand. He aligned himself with her entrance and pushed inside of her. 

“Father!” Alayne cried out in pleasure. It only took a second but Petyr began to move, thrusting in and out of her. Alayne hips moved to the rhythm that he was setting. His lips latched onto her neck, sucking and biting as he fucked her. The feel of her around him only caused him cry out. In-between her legs, Petyr almost believed that the Gods were real. It almost made him pray. It was the closest thing to heaven he could find. 

“Sansa.” Petyr breathed into her hear, releasing himself inside her and hearing her true name is what sent her over the edge for a second time. He never said her real name aloud. He didn't want to risk anyone finding her. He couldn't. At first, it was a political move; for she is the key to the North and he couldn't help how much she looked like Catelyn but now, she was so much more than that. The only time he called her anything more than Sweetling and Alayne was in the moments of raw passion. On the rare occasion that Lysa would allow her to dine with them at the Erie, Petyr always refereed to her as his daughter. Lysa couldn't know any better. Yet, when Petyr was spilling his seed into her womb, she was only Sansa. “My sweet beautiful, Sansa.” 

It wasn't until their hearts slowed and their breathing evened out that that Petyr pulled out of her. He maneuvered himself so he was resting behind her. He draped his arms around her waist and pulled her towards him. He kissed the top of her head again, as he always did once they finished with one another. It was as though he was showing her his gratitude. Alayne reached behind him and grabbed the blanket that was laying on the top of the love seat. She covered the two of them and pressed her body closer to him for the comfort and warmth. Petyr kissed the top of her head again.

“Remember to drink your tea before the servants come for the night.” Petyr whispered to her. After the first time it happened, something that had taken Alayne by surprise, Petyr provided her with moon tea. In her naivete, she didn't understand why she was to drink it. He simply smiled at her and told her that it wouldn't do for her to become with child. She drank the tea quickly the first few times but now, after three years of living in this cottage she wanted someone else to love.

“I always do.” Her voice grew quiet and withdrawn but came out of it quickly. However, Petyr noticed the change in her demeanor and gave her a questioning look. “It's just, what if I didn't want to drink the tea anymore? What harm could it do? I'm a baseborn girl. If I had a baseborn child, no one would care. It wouldn't be a scandal. No one would talk.” It wasn't the first time she broached the topic and Petyr knew it wouldn't be the last.

“Everyone would talk Sweetling. To the world, you are my daughter. Illegitimate, but still a high lord's daughter. If you became with child I would be expected to challenge the man who got you that way. It would be difficult to do so if I was the father.” He chuckled and Alayne's face seemed downcast and depressed. “Are you not happy? You're safe, comfortable and you have friends.”

It was true. She had developed close bonds in the village. She strolled through the market with Myranda Royce often enough; giggling like school girls. She didn't have the relationship she had with Jeyne Poole from Winterfell or even Margaery back in King's Landing but it was friendship. She also became close with the servants Petyr provided her. They never spoke the truth aloud but she suspected they knew who she really was. They either kept her secret because Petyr paid them well or out of loyalty. Either way, Alayne didn't care. She knew what Petyr would do to them if they ever spoke the truth aloud. 

“I am happy. I am happier than I've been since I was back home.” It was the truth. The last time she had been truly happy was when she was safe behind the walls of Winterfell. While this cottage was her new home, Petyr told her that it was temporary. It had been years since they fled to the Vale but she knew that they wouldn't be here forever. “I just....is it so wrong that I want a child? Your child?”

“I promise you Sansa, that if it is children you want, I will give you a dozen. Soon. Very soon.” She believed him. He always told her that children would bring to much unwanted attention. By unwanted attention, she knew he meant Lysa. He told he that Lysa hated the fact that he would take an entire day to spend with his daughter. She was jealous. The high Lords of the Vale found it admirable, even though Alayne was baseborn, that a father would care of his only daughter. Petyr had wanted to keep Alayne in the Erie but Lysa had forbade it. Instead, they compromised on the cottage that both Lysa and Petyr paid for and easy access for Petyr to see his daughter. 

If only Lysa knew the truth behind who she really was and what they did, she wouldn't have come to such an understanding.

“But how? You said Lysa would become to suspicious. You couldn't risk me bearing your child.” Petyr was honest with her. She knew that he had to bed Lysa on an occasion. He didn't do it often. It was easy to exhaust her with wine at night to make her believe relations occurred when they hadn't. On the occasion he did go to bed with her, he always made sure that moon tea found its way into her system. If he was going to have a child, he refused for Lysa to be its mother. 

“Lysa went flying today. Tragic really. How a slip through the moon door will end someone.” This caused Alayne to sit up in surprise. She held the blanket to her chest, covering her breast. Her eyes were wide and surprised; taking in the shock of his words. “It appears that I am a widow, or at least I will be when I hear the news of my wife's suicide.” 

“You killed her?”

“You knew that it was coming Sweetling.” It as true. When he had pulled her from Joffrey's wedding and his death, he told her where they were going. Before she had become Alayne, Sansa was excited to see some family again. They gave her the guise of his daughter and when Lysa heard it, she grew angry. Petyr said that he had intended to tell her who she really was, but Lysa's reaction made him rethink that decision. Catelyn was always a sore subject for Lysa; jealousy was an ugly beast. Petyr decided that it was best to keep the secret in order to keep Alayne safe. “It was time. In a month or so, I plan on moving you to the Erie with me. Then we will be able to reveal your real identity to the high lords of the Vale. Lord Royce always admired your father.”

“They would never believe that she would take her own life though.”

“But remember, she suffered a great lose recently.” Robin. The young boy had died a few months back. He had been sick for a long while, long before Petyr and Alayne came to the Vale. Of course, Alayne had her theories that Petyr was poisoning the boy from afar. Lysa had taken a massive emotional blow at the loss of her son. “She had become depressed. It wouldn't be surprised that she flung herself from the moon door.”

“And what of Lord Hardying? Surly he is not going to take kindly to us living in the Eyrie.” Harold Hardying was the heir to the Vale once Robin died. The last he heard, he was a kind hearted young man who had a tendency to produce bastard children with servant girls. “He would want to move into the castle. You told me he was getting impatient with Lysa when Robin passed.” 

“True. However, once Lord Hardying knows who you really are, he will be enraptured.” She looked at him with wide eyes. The idea of revealing her identity to the lords of the Vale was not just based upon the notion of keeping her safe. No. Petyr was after something else. “How would you feel about becoming Lady of the Vale?” 

“What? I'm still married?! And what about keeping my secret safe! And the children! I want your children! Not Harold Harydings!” This was not what she wanted. What she wanted was to have Petyr's child, raise him or her in this cottage until Petyr needed to move them somewhere else. She knew he was going to kill Lysa in order to gain control of the Vale through Robin but once Robin died, it caused a kink in his plan. The boy died far sooner than Petyr anticipated even though he was the one poisoning him. Either way, Petyr was always adaptable. 

“An annulment from Tyrion will be easy enough. The marriage was never consummated and to the world, you're still a pure virgin.” Petyr tossed her a wicked grin, knowing that it was him who took her virtue. “As for keeping your secret, that won't be necessary once Cersei is gone.” Sansa narrowed her eyes. It was common knowledge that there was a war of wills going down in King's Landing between Cersei and Queen Margaery. It appears that Petyr knew that Margaery was about win that war in the most final way. “And as for children? I plan on having you with child by your wedding night to the young falcon.” 

“Seems you have this all worked out. And what happens when the child I bear has dark black hair? The last time I checked, Lord Hardying had blonde hair.” It was easy for Cersei to pawn her children off as Robert Baratheon's because she had golden hair. Everyone assumed they took after their mother. However, Petyr and Harold looked nothing alike. Unless she bore a child with red hair, it would be difficult to pass the child off as Harold's.

“Stark blood my dear. You may have the Tully look but you're a Stark. Simply say that the child looks like your father or your Uncle Benjen. No one would dare think otherwise; until you tell them the truth.” Alayne looked at him in question. “Once your married, tell Harold how much you miss Winterfell. He is young blood who dreams of glory. He will march upon Winterfell and wage war against the Boltons to take it back. The Northern Lords will back him easily once they realize you're alive. The last Stark.”

“Let me guess. You then will arrange for my husband to die in battle. Making me not only Lady of the Vale but Mistress of Winterfell. What then Lord Baelish?”

“Then, you marry me and I claim your child as my own.” It was appealing and Petyr could see it in her eyes. He leaned in and seal his promise with a kiss. It was gentle and full of the future. It was a dream that Alayne realized she deeply wanted. It would allow her to be Sansa again. She would get her home back. She would have the child she craved; and most of all, she would have Petyr. “Now, my beautiful daughter. It is best to get dressed. I have a suspicion that someone is going to come looking for me soon.” Within the hour, they heard hooves of horses approaching. The scene the riders rode up to see was one of a doting father having a picnic with his beautiful daughter. The crumbling expression upon Petyr's face when he learned of his wife's death almost caused Alayne to believe that he was distraught by her loss.

Almost.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have an idea. I really want to do a re-write of seasons 5-7 (or at least a rewrite around Petyr and Sansa). If you follow me on tumblr, you might have read my idea about doing that. I have a few ideas that I think would be great.
> 
> However, I feel like it would be great as a collaboration with other writers. Let me know if that is something you would be interested in reading. 
> 
> If you are interested in contributing, let me know and I would be more than happy to get things rolling. 
> 
> If no one wants to work with me, I might just do it anyway. Boden is coming to an end and while I have another story in the works, I think it is bothering me enough to fit it in.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
